“Good.” Holding out my hand, I barked, “Help me up.”
The leader marched to me, gritting his teeth against my proximity as he hauled me up onto one leg and passed me the cane from the floor. He shot a look at naked Eleanor sleeping on the carpet and back to nude Drake drooling with the occasional hiccupping sob. “What happened?”
“Nothing that didn’t need to happen.” Curling my hand around the smooth ball of the cane, I ordered, “Hook him up to the defib. Have one of your men sit beside him. The moment he shows signs of falling asleep, zap him. I want him to stay awake until I say so, got it?”
The leader nodded respectfully with a fair dose of wariness. “Consider it done.”
With the help of my cane, I limped toward Eleanor. Her skin puckered with goosebumps, and even in a drugged sleep, she shivered.
Unlike her nakedness, I still wore my clothing, fully aware that we weren’t in the tropics and even a heated house was not warm enough for long stints of nudity.
She needs a bed and covers.
Now.
Drake let out a guttural groan.
I narrowed my gaze, looking his way as he swayed and jerked as if something gnawed his bones. The mercenaries swallowed hard as more blood gushed from his ears, staining the sides of his face with crimson.
For hardened criminals with the taste of delivering death, they seemed unsettled with Drake’s condition. Afraid of a man who seemed intact, yet his brain dribbled over his shoulders like treacle.
“I do expect him to stay awake.” My voice resembled a drill, slow and merciless, puncturing their concerned fascination. “If you allow him to sleep, I will not be kind with my displeasure.”
Radcliffe, the leader of this merry band of murderers, nodded. “He will be kept awake. You have my word.”
“Good.” Pointing at the ancient armoire tucked against the wall, I ordered, “Inside you’ll find a blanket. Bring it to me.”
One of the men shot into action, ripping open the cupboard and pulling free a thick silver blanket. Carrying it to me, he waited while I did my best to duck and drape it over Eleanor.
I struggled with pain threatening to send me under again and the agonising need to protect her. I couldn’t bend. Couldn’t crouch. Couldn’t do a goddamn fucking thing.
Cursing my broken leg, hating my limited mobility, I eyed the men.
Goddammit.
I wanted to be the one to carry her to bed. I needed to be that man. To still show strength even in the shadow of my death. To hold her weight and cradle her while she slept. But...carrying her up the flight of marble stairs was an impossibility. Even climbing them myself wasn’t going to be doable.
Sighing hard, I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to squeeze out the poisonous weakness inside me. “Someone will need to carry her.”
“I’ll do it.” Radcliffe volunteered, striding quickly as if understanding how fucking gut-wrenching this was for me. How much I wished I wasn’t a goddamn cripple.
Without a word, he tucked the blanket around her and scooped her naked form from the carpet. I ensured no part of her skin touched his and the blanket protected her decency before nodding stiffly. “A guest room is on this floor, toward the back of the house. Follow me.”
He nodded, waiting for me to hobble back to Drake and scoop up the abandoned cell phone beside him.
Drake mumbled something incoherent as another gush of blood dribbled out of his nose. He jerked as if something mauled him, followed by a thin scream. He trembled and hyperventilated, looking every bit a pitiful prey.
Enjoy your evening, brother.
Turning my back on him, I led the leader with Eleanor in his arms through the maze of wide artwork-adorned corridors. My pace was slow and laborious. My nervous system no longer able to ignore the shards of agony in my leg, ankle, and foot. The flesh wound from the harpoon had been demoted in terms of pain, and the consuming ache from broken bones made me snappish with fresh fury.
I wanted to be there when Eleanor woke.
I wanted to kiss her and love her and say goodbye without sweating with pain. I needed her one last time, and I’d be fucked if I let her remember sleeping with a broken man instead of the monster she’d fallen for.
“Tell one of your men to bring all the painkillers available in the house. Mrs. Bixel will show you where they are.”
“Of course,” the leader murmured, following me into the large guest suite decorated in muted blues and greys. The large king bed with its carved white headboard, looked out to the snow-dusted gardens. A sculpture of swans caught the moonlight. Snowflakes glittered like fallen stars from the heavens, catching in the deck lights.
“Place her on the bed.”
The mercenary did as I asked, lowering her carefully in the bundled blanket. Only once her weight had been completely transferred to the mattress did he let go and back away. “I’ll bring the painkillers as requested and keep Drake Sinclair awake. Is there anything else?”
I wobbled, clutching my cane for support. “No. Mrs. Bixel will arrange breakfast. For the rest of the night, I wish to be undisturbed with Ms. Grace.” I swallowed back another wash of pain. “I appreciate your meticulous work, Radcliffe.”
He bowed. “Appreciate the business, Sinclair.” Heading to the exit, he wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder, adding, “If you require protection for...” His gaze skittered to Eleanor before settling on back on mine. “You can set up a contract with us for a lifetime of cover, whether or not you are around.”
I hid my sneer. “That obvious, huh?” If the mercenary could taste my death, it meant I didn’t have much longer.
He shrugged. “Been in this business long enough to recognise the end.”
Hopping
